(Cause) Love's Such an Old Fashioned Word
by Old Emerald Eye
Summary: Soulmates are a gift from Rao. That doesn't mean the In-Ze twins are content to allow their daughter's soulmate to grow up on a backwater like Earth. General Danvers Week, day one.
1. By Rao's Early Light

Kara is the first sign of the changes to come, as she emerges from the birthing matrix into her mother's arms with her soulmark already wrapped around her wrist. Rao's dawning light illuminates the inscription, black like Astra's suit against her pale skin. The writing is miniscule, but the marking is clearly purposeful, if written in an unfamiliar script.

It's an unusual situation, and although soulmates are a recorded phenomenon in all sentient species, in one form or another - on Krypton, they come in the form of nothing more than a _feeling_ that grows the longer the individuals interact, a fact that often allows Rao's chosen to find each other years past the age of betrothal - it is extremely rare to have a mark present at birth. Not unheard of, but uncommon. The unfamiliarity of the language only makes her case more peculiar.

Their lack of familiarity in no way stymies them. They search the databases in the Science Guild, then the huge planetary archives that hold the sum total of all the knowledge Krypton has accumulated throughout the millennia. It isn't long before their search returns results.

The writing system imprinted in Kara's skin originates on the third planet of a single yellow star system. The planet is known to its inhabitants as Earth. Aside from being the origin of a singular Green Lantern, it is utterly unremarkable.

Allowing Kara's fated to remain there, when they could have all the advancements of Krypton at their disposal, is not even enough of a possibility to be considered. After the proper period of time has passed for Kara Zor-El to be initiated into her House, Astra and Alura set their duties on hold and set out to retrieve the newest member of the House of El.


	2. Till the Luck Runs Out

Arriving on Earth, the biggest problem they face is the sheer number of people with soulmarks to sift through. Unlike Krypton, where soulmarks are celebrated but not thought of as anything more than a blessing of Rao, human's soulmarks are a matter of public record. These humans seem to build their lives around the concept, despite only a third possessing marks of another's soul. The data streams that the humans use to store their registry are simplistic, almost counter intuitively easy to manipulate. There is some primitive encryption around the data they're searching for, but so far behind the galactic average, let alone krypton's standard that it's laughable. Alura would not be surprised if Kara, when they return, could already gain access to them, and she is but three _lorakh_. Even if she could not, Astra would no doubt find a way to remedy that deficiency. First born daughter of the House of El as she may be, be she is also Ze, and Astra is as much her mother as Alura, if far more panicked at small mishaps like almost swallowing military decorations.

The effects of the yellow sun on their physiology, although problematic, are not unprecedented. Astra is well used to utilising her surroundings to gain an advantage – a practical skill, especially when dealing with Daxamites - and Alura, although not quite as experienced as her sister in finding herself floating unexpectedly, is a quick study. Besides, in the nondescript battlesuits they've donned, no one is going to be looking at their feet when those that they walk among look like a Daxamite carnival.

There are multiples who share the name on Kara's skin, roughly a dozen of which have soulmarks of their own, but only a single Catherine Grant whose name is left unspecified. In the space reads soulmate unknown. There is another, in a difference system, one linked to the first, one that does not supply the soulmark alongside the name of the soulmarked that they note if the first should prove false. For a reason that they assume must amount to local custom, she chooses to name herself after a feline.

Astra locates her while Alura investigates this human who is to be her daughters.

Catherine Jane Grant holds a low status position in an occupation that sends her running all over the low tech city local sources identify as Gotham. It is of course completely unsuitable for an individual connected to their House, in whatever form that connection may take. If she were Kryptonian, she and Kara would have what is described in the ancient epics from Krypton's relatively barbaric past as a joining of minds. As it is, she is not and what to make of her will have to be determined.

Her movement leaves her vulnerable to being herded into a small section of one of the streets, out of sight of other humans. The double take at their similarity brings back childhood escapades that taught them to work in concert. She's wary, but she doesn't initiate violence, even when Astra shifts to cut off her only route of escape. Later experience will tell them that it's because they're female, statistically less likely to do her harm. That, and she thought they were at best an indirect threat, looking for a journalist to air someone's dirty laundry. The position of journalist has no direct kryptonian equivalent, and they have no idea what benefit soiled undergarments have to do with their motive.

It's easy to sedate her with the adaptive attobots Jor-El has provided.

By the time she's aware enough in a position to make a complaint, and has made the connection between the writing on the displays and her wrist it's far too late for her to do anything but complain. The ships systems do not recognise any commands given in English, French or intermediate level Spanish, and Zelex has been assigned guard.

They have Kara's soulmarked in suspended animation - they may not be born of the great Houses, but to insinuate that they are attempting to Starbuck her Kirk – whatever that means – is not to be born. Alura is reconsidering allowing her access to Kara before being thoroughly trained in Argo city's mores - aboard their vessel and are preparing to partake in one last meal on this planet – the increase in appetite is the one negative side effect of a yellow star, if one discounts the increased odds of accidentally destroyed property – when Astra's arm begins to burn.

Her first though is that it's a new form of attack, some previously unknown adverse effect from the solar radiation. It feels like a mixture between dusting from a bio-corrosive semisentient plant's spores – one that is thankfully confined to a single, dwarf moon she is unlikely to revisit – and using seawater to scrape her arm raw.  
It's Alura, ever observant, who notices what Astra in all her threat assessment of their surroundings – vehicles that are confined to the ground, flying creatures, locals that appear incurious about the presence of kryptionians on their planet - fails to.

{Sister. Your arm.}

She has a knack for stating the obvious. Astra can only presume that she finds it useful in her line of work.

{Look.}

She is looking. What has she seen? Alura is not known for irrelevant -

{Oh.}

The look Alura's giving her right now used to start arguments. Still would, if not for -

 _{Oh_. Alura! Alura, I have a soulmate!}

{You have a soulmate. Rao has gifted you.}

{His favour shines on our House.}

* * *

lorakh: unit of time, the rough equivalent of 2.8 months. I'm presuming here that kryptonians emerge from the matrix fairly functional in comparison to humans.


	3. How Silently

It takes them weeks to find another trace of her soulmate. The first week – seven full solar rotations - are an agreed upon delay, to prevent what Astra's instructors would habitually call _switching dragons_ , or _accepting a necklace from a Daxamite_ or any number of other similar expressions _._ There are a lot of phrases for hasty decision making on Krypton, only a handful of which are suitable for public usage. Astra would be unsurprised if, somewhere deep in the archives that preserve Krypton's pre-unification languages, there is an expression for undue haste in choosing the expression to denote undue haste. Probably in Urrikan. Alura is more likely to know, and to care, than she.

It is a week in which Alura refuses to let her do anything until she eats, until she sleeps, until she eats and sleeps again and keeps doing so on reasonable schedule. (Reasonable as defined by _Alura_ , because Military Guild training means Astra can and has gone rotations without it negatively effecting her performance.) Until she's regained enough control that she doesn't break everything she touches.

It is a week Astra only allows because, despite being Marked – that's what they call it here, _marked_ , like it is not a blessing and opportunity but instead some brand of ownership, as if she has once again run afoul of Lar-Gand's forces – there is no sign that the name on her wrist exists anywhere else. Were it not for Alura's assurance, she would think she was hallucinating.

The delay is infuriating, because locating Astra's soulmate should take less than an hour. They have already accessed the systems they need, and from their acquisition of one Cat Grant, escape artist extraordinaire, they know they're looking for with a mark listed in a language of unknown origin, _soulmate unknown_.

It's been more than a week already, and an instant would have been too long a span to bare.

It should take less than an hour, but it takes over a solar month for the information to appear on one of the systems, and an alert to sound in the control room of their craft, summoning them from their activities.

It's a length of time that roughly equates to two thirds of the equivalent for Krypton's largest and brightest moon. Each dendahr that passes emphasises the primitive nature of the society they are forced to interact with. It is far too long a span of time for Alura not to see her daughter. They stay in contact, but moments snatched through the medium of a screen? Utterly unacceptable.

A concentrated attack on her paperwork ends in victory three earth weeks in, and the feeling of satisfaction lasts as long as it takes her to notice she no longer has something to do. Absent as she is from the courts and Halls of Justice, her inbox is slow to refill. At a loss, she sets about familiarising herself with the local laws and legal customs. Is not impressed by the manifold variations even within an area of land that is commonly agreed to belong to a single, unified state - a fact she makes abundantly clear to Astra as they share repast on yet another of her sister's cultural excursions.

{They call their Adjudicators Justices, Astra! Justices! As if any one being could do more than negotiate the closest compromise between Rao's ideal ways and the fallacies of the mundane – and then they give the decision of guilt to a bunch of untrained individuals who would be incapable of separating motive from intent!}

Astra's face has many levels of impassivity, learned as a result of long years spent ensuring Krypton's ideals of justice are met in reality. Alura, having grown up with her sister, knows exactly what this one means.

{Astounding. Do you want the last of-}

{Of course I do.}

To pout would be beneath the dignity of a General of Krypton. Therefore, Astra does not pout and her sister does not call her out on it.

{You can chose the third serving.}

{The specialty. These humans seem to know what they're doing. It contains chocolate.}

* * *

Astra, for her own part, when she isn't waiting for an update or finding new food for Alura to sample –

({What is this? It feels like a _khaoghao_ died in my mouth.}

{They call it coconut. According to a number of documents in the knowledge archive it is a staple in the diet those stranded at sea.}

{If they're stupid enough to venture onto the sea, then they deserve to eat this.}

{Do you want to try it with the chocolate?}

{And do _this_ to chocolate? And don't think I don't see you not eating it.} )

– spends her spare time buying trinkets for Kara. Some are unremarkable – sculptures, toys, images of this planet's landscapes (and oceans, rather an adventurous touch, but no one has ever accused Astra of being tame) – while others are ... less so. Alura catches her smuggling hats into the hold no less than three times, once in conjunction with the human attempting escape. The hats have ears. The fact that they are not actual ears sewn onto the headcoverings does not make them any less incomprehensible.

* * *

The vast majority of Astra's free time is spent practicing. From the timing of its appearance and by the fact it is in a proper script, her soulmate would be newly born. The situation is not without its advantages. When they find them, they will be :zehtol, with the possibility of leaving this planet without its taint. Given what she's seen of Catherine Grant, she can't help but be relieved, if a trifle worried for her niece.

Neither is it without its downsides. Nothing on this planet is, it seems. Humans are fragile. Even without the effects of their sun, they are weak in comparison to the children of Rao. No human could stand on the surface of Krypton unaided, a problem the scientists of House El are working on; crafting nanobots to fortify, adapt, and improve them enough to thrive. And they require all that for an adult, perhaps not the most durable specimen imaginable, but fully grown nonetheless. Durable, for a give value of durability.

Infants are so much more vulnerable than that – all those except the spawn of the Helgramite, which are born practically impervious, if unable to move until they shed their first skeleton – so she needs control. Her control is key to the – to _her_ humans continued survival. She has the skills and the training, it just needs ... refinement. Nothing less than perfection is acceptable. Not for this.

She practices on legumes, frozen spheres roughly the size of a Daxamite's morals. She crushes hundreds before she can hold them in her hand and they do not bruise. Alura, taking over her role as an investigator of earth culture, informs her that the results of her failures can be used to create an Earth dish, known as smushed peas. A sample does little to improve their opinion of Earth, but their shared delight at the other's disgust alleviates their frustration to the point where the database alert takes them by surprise.

* * *

The Danvers don't know what to make of the strange symbols that mark their daughter's wrist from the moment she is born – Jeremiah can recall, even as the days turn into weeks – weeks! they've been parents for weeks! - with almost inhuman clarity the contrast between the red of her skin, the black of her mark and the white coat of the doctor, in a way that the nurse's babbling about percentages in the population, age differences, and rarity, has faded into meaningless noise.

(It's the only clear image he can recall, really. The entire emotional whirlwind of her birth is blazed into his mind, from being shaken awake in the early hours of the morning, to the sheer terror of encountering three red lights on the way to the hospital, to that first earthshaking cry. He can't uncramp his hand, he hasn't had caffeine in hours – Eliza hasn't had much of it either, for _months_ , but she's doing a much better job hiding it than he is - but that's okay, everything's okay, because she is perfect. They have created something perfect.

They still have to decide the spelling of her name, caught between Alexandra and Alexandria. There's nothing wrong with being called after the greatest library that ever existed on Earth. They are scientists. Knowledge is what they do.)

They know what it is, naturally. Their problem is not that she has a soulmark, although neither of them have been so destined. They're more into empirical evidence then the handwave of fate directing their lives. That being said, knowing that their Alex has someone out there, someone just for her, is something like a relief. It's not even that she has it so early. Their problem is that they can't read it. It is obviously a soulmark - its appearance and placement leave no doubt of that - but it is marked in no alphabet they can recognise, or is recognisable to any of the far flung contacts they have energy to reach. Eventually, despite all their research and all their contacts, her name is added to the registry, _soulmate unknown_.

Mostly sleepless time passes, hazy in a mixture of exhaustion and _we're responsible for a human being, a whole human being,_ and _she's so tiny, how are we supposed to do this?_ Alex slowly begins to discover that night time is for sleeping, a development which allows her grateful parents to rediscover what it feels like to enjoy an undisturbed night's rest, to the point where they can think outside _baby, food, minimum required to keep job, sleep, feed baby._

One night, thirty minutes into _she's just gone to sleep, we could have hours, do you want sleep or a candlelit dinner_ , a contest that the dinner wins, the doorbell rings. It nearly ends in a fire, but Eliza has good reflexes and the soup is right there, who needs a fire extinguisher? They haven't heard a car pull up. Perhaps the waves covered the sound.

They open the door together. Jeremiah starts the process, setting it swinging till it jerks to a halt a few inches from the frame, Eliza hisses "Alexandra" reaches around him to unlatch the chain and he "Alexandria" swings it inwards. Teamwork.

There is no car outside. There are only two women, who are either twins or clones. (Jeremiah blames the speculative sci-fi he's been reading for that thought.) There's something about the way they stand in the moonlight, as if the pull of the Earth can't quite hold onto them – but the brighter one, the one who looks, if she were not stiff and about to snap with nerves, like she could rival the sun with the contained fury of her focus, draws up one of her sleeves, and they see her wrist -

They see Astra's wrist, and don't think to wonder why her soulmark is alien when Alex's first tongue should be English.

They see Astra's wrist, and they don't stop to think meeting your soulmate as a child is not a sign of good fortune to come, because it means Alex's mark is not a mistake.

They see Astra's wrist, and they don't think not to trust her. Who would harm their own soulmate?

It's a decision they come to regret.


End file.
